Page 109 of These Summer Storms

“I am not punishing anyone,” Elisabeth argued. “I had nothing to do with this stupid game. I continue not to have anything to do with it; this is your father’s doing. And his.” She pointed to Jack. “I’m just a bystander.”

“Innocence personified.”

“Exactly, and your father is dead now,” Elisabeth said, as thoughthey weren’t surrounded by the proof of it. As though they weren’t consumed with the proof of it.

“She can’t fire me,” Tony said, surprising all of them.

“What does that mean?” Elisabeth’s affronted utterance would have been a delight to experience if they weren’t all having the same thought.

“You can’t fire me,” Tony said, simply, turning his steel gaze on her. “Even if you had the power to fire me, I don’t work for Storm any longer.”

Oh, shit!

Everyone looked at him. “What?” Greta asked.

“I gave my notice on Thursday.” He looked to Jack, standing at a distance, and everyone followed.

“You were involved in it,” Alice said.

“I’m a managing director at Storm,” he said, dryly. “So yes. I was involved.”

Before she could reply, Greta spoke, surprise and something like hurt in her words. “You met with the Secret Service. You worked with the company security team today.”

Tony was silent for a long moment, long enough that Alice wondered if he would answer. And then, finally, he said, “I don’t have to be on the payroll to want to keep you safe.”

Alice’s chest went tight at the words, the beautiful simplicity of them. Tony was staring at Greta like she was the only thing in his world, like she was the sun—so raw and honest that it felt wrong that anyone was there to witness it.

It was an undeniable profession of his love for her. Of what should come next. Greta’s loyalty. Her love. Her future.

But that wasn’t so freely given, as it had been claimed already. Long before Anthony Balestreri had arrived on the scene. Greta’s gaze was glued to the grass at her feet, lush and green and fragrant with wild thyme. “Tony,” she whispered, and Alice looked away, knowing what was to come. Not wanting to watch.

“I’ve had enough.” Elisabeth waved a hand between them, apparently having no difficulty hearing it. Watching it. “This secret love affairthat has consumed you foryearsand was never going to give you a future. Your father only wanted what was best for you and the family,” she began, knowing how to push Greta’s buttons. “And now he’s gone, and it’s time for you to assume some responsibility.”

It was monstrous. As Alice watched, a collection of Storm staff whispered among themselves. A few of Greta’s old-money friends from the East Side of Providence tried for unobtrusive stares.

They might as well have been obtrusive—the entire assembly would be whispering about it before Elisabeth was through. And that made Alice even more angry. Two hundred people here to center her mother—to coddle her and care for her and console her—and she still couldn’t see her way to doing the same for her children?

If Greta needed Tony to get through the day—this day, of all days—was that so bad? Couldn’t they have put the world on hold for twenty-four hours? Alice met her sister’s eyes, full of deep indigo sadness, and willed her to stand up. Finally.

Tell her no. Claim your space.

“You can finally put it all behind you,” Elisabeth said. “Close the door. Again.”

Now, why did thatagainsound so ominous? Why did it spark a flash of regret in Greta’s eyes? A shadow of shame so obvious that it seemed like a physical blow?

Next to Alice, Jack was still, the heavy weight of his presence setting Alice on edge. He could stop this right now. She looked to him, and he deliberately avoided meeting her gaze, as though he, too, understood that whatever this was, it wasn’t fair. And it wasn’t right. And her father was dead, for God’s sake, so who would know?

No one. Jack would know.

And he shouldn’t care.

But he didn’t say anything, and he didn’t move, and just as the scream woke in her chest and crawled up her throat—threatening to release and scorch him with years of pent-up anger—Alice looked to Tony, and the fight in her faded.

Because he had already accepted what she refused to.

Greta wasn’t going to defy their mother. She wasn’t going to push back. And he respected himself too much to stay and let her break his heart.

He nodded once. “Okay.”